


Deciding Next Level

by Saphie3243



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cannon compliant, M/M, literally just a fuckin conversation in the end, oc ish, post season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9242726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphie3243/pseuds/Saphie3243
Summary: Yuuri has just broken the world record for men's free skate. And the composer who wrote the song he skated to couldn't be happier... until he loses gold. A single voicemail and talk with his fiance is enough to pique Viktor's curiosity about the young woman.sexual themes and implications but nothing explicit. Look. Guys. Viktor and Yuuri are banging. We acknowledge that.





	1. Chapter 1

Trish clutched her pillow tight as her old friend skated his way cross her TV. Rocking back and forth like a maniac as she yells.

“ASIAN WONDER! YOU BETTER NOT INSULT *MY* MUSIC LIKE YOU DID IN RUSSIA!”

Yuuri didn’t disappoint. By the time they moved to the kiss and cry she didn’t know who was crying more, Yuuri, his fiancé, or her. She was a wreck, so pleased to see him finally, finally express the story he told her, that she transcribed into music. It had been good therapy, writing your crush’s tale of true love with someone else was probably not the best way to get over him, but definitely the most effective. And tonight he let that love, that story, that music, dictate his actions, and it paid off in a big way.

“New World Record!! WE BROKE THE WORLD RECORD!! THAT’S MY BOY!” She bounced up and down around her living room, disturbing the nice couple that lived below her, waking up her roommates, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She just kept shouting “WE BROKE THE WORLD RECORD!”

It didn’t occur to her that Yuuri might lose. Not after that performance.

So when gold was award to the Russian Yuri, she just sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. Her roommates, who had long since given up on the idea of sleep tonight, just watched, waiting for the yelling to start. To their surprise, she just very calmly stood up and reached for her phone, giving her reasoning to them.

“Obviously it’s because I didn’t compose his short program.”

And before anyone could think to stop her she was calling Yuuri.

It had been an emotional day, but Yuuri was confident in his success, finally. And confident in his relationship with Viktor. They weren’t going to plan the wedding, not yet, not until Yuuri won gold. They discussed it in great detail over celebratory drinks last night. 4 Continents, Worlds, Olympics, and the Grand Prix. Those were his options. Everything else was just an added bonus.

Now they were packing up to leave Barcelona and head to Hatetsu. They had to make arrangements for their stuff to be shipped to Russia. He had to let his family know. They both needed to be near their coaches for this to work, and Yakov was in Russia.

Everything was all packed, suitcases next to him on the bed. All that was left now was for Viktor to finish brushing his teeth and then they could go. With nothing else to do, he decided it was time to let himself check his phone. He had been ignoring it, knowing that it would be full of notifications, tags, texts, mentions, and he wasn’t feeling that last night. He called back home right after the medal ceremony, and then left his phone alone for the rest of the night. He just wanted Viktor, they even skipped the banquet, choosing instead to have an intimate night in their hotel room.

As he expected, his phone was mess of notifications. It was easier to just clear them all and then go into his individual apps. But he noticed something odd when he did that. A notification that doesn't auto-clear, a voicemail.

_The only one who calls me is my parents, and I talked to them yesterday._

He pulled up the message, instantly recognizing the voice on the other side.

 _I’m doing both your short and your free programs from now on. If you have a problem with that take it up with the world record under your belt and the silver medal around your neck. Call me back soon so we can start discussing themes._ There was a slight pause, where he was sure she meant to hang up. _By the way, I expect an invitation to the wedding._

“Oh god,” Yuuri said, lowering his phone.

“What is it?” Viktor asked, entering the room.

“Trish- ah, the girl who composed Yuuri on Ice, just called.”

“Oh?”

“She wants to compose both my next free skate and short program.”

“That’s great!” Viktor paused and looked closely had his boyfriend’s face. “That is good, right? Having a composer who can make arrangements and original pieces that fit you is huge.”

“Y-yeah. Just,” Yuuri paused.

“What?”

“You weren’t there for The Calls.”

“The Calls?”

“Making Yuuri on Ice. She would keep me on the phone for hours. Hours, Viktor.”

“Is that what you were up to on you when up late?” he asked. Distinct memories of Yuuri disappearing at night but not being at the rink or the studio. “You told me you were jogging.”

“I-I was. I couldn’t sit still and manage to talk.”

“Hmm,” Viktor recalled those early nights of his romance. Yuuri would come back from a midnight jog, red-faced and out of breath. The first night it happened he declared his theme would be love. His short program on sexual love, the free program his love for ice skating, encompassing the two things he loves most – katsudon and the ice. Viktor found comfort in the katsudon drinking game. Take a shot every time Yuuri talks about katsudon in relation to anything sexual.

After another jog he came back just as Viktor was going to sleep. Viktor asked, as he usually did, if Yuuri wanted to sleep with him- half joking, half not. To his surprise, Yuuri said yes. Nothing happened that night, just snuggles. Lots of snuggles with a very warm, very happy Maccachin in between them. 

But then Yuuri started flirting back, getting comfortable. Where Yuuri would usually retreat in blushes, he started escalating. Leaving Viktor to pull away, unsure if Yuuri was really up for what he wanted. They didn't kiss untile the first time he skates Eros cleanly in practice. Just a peck, from Yuuri. Then not just a peck. Then really not just a peck.

And it snowballed from there. They never officially defined their relationship. Because all that mattered was that at any point in time, they knew that at that moment, they were the most important person in the world to each other.

 Hard work, happiness, and love, they defined this new phase of Yuuri’s life, and it reflected in his routine so perfectly.

Viktor smiled.

“Well, it might have been stressful for you, but it worked out in the end,” he stated. “You said before she was a pushy person, maybe it’s just what you need in someone who’s supposed to write what you are feeling.”

 “Yeah,” Yuuri said with a sigh. Viktor was right. Trish was a lot, but she was a genius. And if a composer of her level was going to offer to write his music, than he should accept it. “I just wish that she knew when to back off. More than once she had me talk through tears.”

_Don’t think you can cry your way out of finishing that story. I will not let you make my music the reason you fail._

She was nicer when he lived in Detroit.

“But she got you the music. Come on, love. Let’s head home, we can talk more on the way.”


	2. white girl wasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delivery! Hot Russian champions!

Trish sometimes didn’t know why she paid rent, if she was going to spend every waking moment in the studio. But three hours ago they were almost done. Almost done. Almost…

“Cut! Wrong line, it’s the one true king of all, not the king to rule them all! Again!”

Trish let out a huge sigh. She had been there for 12 hours, trying to get all of the recordings done. She loved her job, she did. Working under Alan, writing the music for the show. But damn, she just wanted to hear the final version already.

Someone knocked on the door; an assistant answered. She figured it was the dinner the interns ordered, and more or less ignored it, listening to the recording, hoping they got the song right this time. She felt a tap on her shoulder and lifted her headphones just a smidge.

“I’ll eat after we get through this song,” she whispered.

“Not food, Trish, there’s someone at the door.” That was weird. Everyone knows to leave Trish alone when she’s at work.

“What?” She turned to see the familiar face of a person she’d never met. “Viktor Nikiforov?” She asked, standing and making her way to the door. He boss also perked up at the name.

“Trisha Galloway? Pleasure to meet you,” he greeted her in a thick Russian accent but perfect English.

“What are you doing here? Is Yuuri with you?”

“Ah no, he’s going to meet me in Russia in a week. And your roommates told me I’d find you here. Do you have a minute?”

“Ah…” she said, glancing back. She wanted to go because holy shit it was Viktor Nikiforov! But she couldn’t leave the studio without having the recording done. “I’m not so-”

“Trish, go get dinner with the nice man. Just bring me back a salad. I can’t eat the burger the youngsters ordered anyway,” Alan ordered.

“Thanks, Alan. I’ll be back in a half hour.” She said walking out the door.

“Take your time, kid. Also see if you can convince him to cameo!” he called as she left.

“Cameo?” Viktor asked.

“Ignore him. He’s just hoping we’ll save money, the studio fucking hates us. This way, there’s a café across the street.” She led him down the stairs.

“Studio?”

“For the show. I’m an assistant composer for a musical TV show. Can you sing?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Well. Sucks. Wait, do you know if Yuuri would have time to come to America for a few days?”

“Why?” he asked. They exited the building into warm L.A. air.

“Because 5-time gold medalist Viktor Nikiforov may not be able to sing, but I know for a fact that Men’s Free Skate World Record holder Yuuri Katsuki can rap.” Viktor’s face lit up with this new information. This trip was such a good idea.

“Really?”

“Viktor, have you ever seen Yuuri drunk? Like truly drunk?” A blush filled up the very tall, silver-haired fox’s face. And that was all Trish needed as an answer. She burst out laughing. “Ah man, we did have some good times. I used to drag Yuuri fropping- ah, frat hopping. Dude gets full on white-girl wasted.”

“He pole danced,” Viktor said softly, fondly, like he wanted to see it again.

“Oh yeah, we did force him to take a few pole-dancing workout class,” she said, thinking back to the joke of a 20th birthday present from her and Phichit. “Of fucking course he added that to his drunk arsenal.”

“I haven’t been able to get him to cut lose like that again,” he pouted.

“Well, if memory serves, he either needs to be completely black-out, or just a little tipsy with the right atmosphere. Nicki Minaj or Queen B will usually do the trick,” she said, opening the door. “Wait!”

He stopped in his tracks while she pulled a phone out of her pocket, still holding the door. Viktor was very confused for a moment.

“Do you have Spotify?” she asked, finally walking again.

“I do,” he answered. She shoved her phone in his hands and claimed an empty booth.

“Enter your email, you’re gonna want this playlist.”

On the phone’s screen was a playlist with some of the most filthy songs Viktor knew, and more than a few he didn’t. It was titled “KEEP DETROIT ALIVE” and had three owners. Phichit, Trish, and Yuuri.

“Doesn’t seem like Yuuri,” Viktor commented. Knowing full well that this was exactly the music Yuuri listened to, more than once he had caught his fiancé humming along to some hip-hop or R&B song he didn’t know, but Yuuri always seemed so reserved about it He couldn’t see Yuuri openly admitting that “Get On Your Knees” was his most listened to song of the year (it was), let alone adding to a shared playlist.

“Do you listen to rap?” she asked, thanking the waitress for the water and asking for coffee.

“I must admit, I don’t.”

“That’s why. Yuuri goes with the flow of the room. If the other party isn’t interested in it, he won’t assert his tastes,” she smiled. “A lot of it gets very explicit and Yuuri feels like forcing people to listen to it is the same as asserting his sexuality.”

 _Huh. That does sound a lot like Yuuri._ Viktor gave up on his count of the number of times they had sex but no matter how high the number got, Yuuri never brought up so much as a dirty joke outside of the bedroom.

“Anyway, usually two beers and a song from that playlist will get him dancing. I’m thinking three or four will get him stripping.”

“Thank you,” he said, handing her back her phone and pulling out his own. Already saving it. At the very least, he could finally listen to Yuuri’s favorite songs, thinking about the look on his face if he walked into the room to see Viktor lying on the table, his favorite songs reverberating through the room. Or maybe a tipsy Yuuri and a lap dance he’s actually remember giving this time. He didn’t realize he was fantasizing until Trisha spoke again.

“So I’m guessing you didn’t come to America to get a party playlist?” she asked.

“Ah, no. I came to ask you a question,” his tone got quieter, more serious, and nervous in a way she found both disarming and charming. “Are you still in love with Yuuri?”

She was purely shocked for the second time that night. This man, this living legend, this rumored sex god that she spent three years hearing Yuuri gush about was blushing and fidgeting uncomfortably across the table, trying to make sure that a woman his fiancé hadn’t seen in 2 years wasn’t competition.

She burst out laughing. Viktor was taken aback.

“You’re *wheeze* both *giggle* idiots,” she let out a few more giggles and then calmed down enough to speak. “No Viktor. I love Yuuri, but I had my heart broken two years ago, and had two years to get over it. I haven’t been _in_ love with him for quite some time.”

Viktor breathed a sigh of relief and took a swig of water.

“You didn’t have to laugh,” he complained.

“You’re engaged, dipshit,” she hoped her tone was enough for him to get that she didn’t feel like competition.

“Do we know each other well enough for you to be calling me names?”

“I just gave you a stripper playlist for your fiancé.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to insult me. Look, I’m not asking you that because I think you can steal Yuuri from me,” he explained.

“Bullshit,” she scoffed.

“ _I’m not_. Look, I’m about to ask you a favor, and I didn’t want to ask it if you were still hung up on him. It wouldn’t work.”

“Alright. Shoot.”

“I need you to come to Russia for a week or so,” he asked in all seriousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. yes. this is not it. there are two more (ish) longer chapters. but this is a good cliff hanger  
> Can you guess the show she works on? 10 pts if you can. 
> 
> A link to Yuuri's most listened to song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTYVqAv4wKw   
> I firmly believe that Yuuri is the person who is unspeakably filthy in private and in the bedroom but won't even say the word penis in public. Also, he's always liked sexual songs, but didn't feel like they applied to him (unless he drunk). Eros was doable at first because he was assuming a role, and later, as he took it as his seduction of Viktor, he ultimately was comfortable with it in public because it was *eros* and not *sex*. Sensual and Sexual are two very different things.

**Author's Note:**

> I was just curious about how the pushy girl who wrote Yuri On Ice must have felt about the whole thing and this came out. I was gonna write this long multi-chapter adventure, but in the end, I think this will probably be 3-4 chapters.


End file.
